


Utinam Memoria

by softiebee



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [10]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, pynch - Freeform, the summary is a pun ronan's memory loss is temporary dont worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiebee/pseuds/softiebee
Summary: Ronan forgets himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt: memory loss
> 
> this is a work of fiction. all characters belong to maggie steifvater and the raven cycle series.

This week had not treated Ronan well. He was bruised and achey and irritable, and whenever he was in a room with Adam and Gansey, Gansey would start to laugh uncontrollably and turn purple and have to get himself a glass of water from the sink. Ronan still hadn’t been offered an explanation for this, which was off-putting enough in itself, or one for why, when he was in a room with Adam, Adam would look everywhere except at Ronan and eventually make an excuse to get up and leave.

The aches and irritability stemmed from Ronan’s stark refusal to take pain medication, despite Gansey’s coaxing. (When one of them was sick or injured, Ronan noted, Gansey became a fluttery mess in a put-together package, and was arguably and irredeemably useless until they got better.) The need for pain medication stemmed from Ronan’s bruised chest and neck, turned black and blue by the speed at which he had managed to skid off the road, body loose in the car like a rag doll. He had gotten an earful about that particular detail from Blue, of all people, when he was propped up in the hospital bed, and had decided against cutting her off in favor of leaning back and listening to the flow of blood in his veins. Ronan would never admit it out loud, but there was something comforting in the worry.

Being at Aglionby didn’t help. Everyone was used to seeing Ronan bruised and battered, but not quite to this degree. Ronan’s bruises were petty medals, but these were different. Violent, even sitting on his skin. As he walked between classes, sandwiching Adam between himself and Gansey as usual, sneering looks were more a currency than money ever had been. He’d already been asked twice today if he needed to go to the infirmary. 

“Just go _home_ ,” Gansey sighed now. “You aren’t even paying attention.”

“I am paying attention.” Ronan flashed him a grin, but it was tired. “Besides, if I went home, I’d have to drive. Dangerous practice, that. Especially without a seatbelt.”

A smile broke open on Gansey’s face, the soft one he saved for Blue and Henry and new discoveries, and Ronan knew he was thinking about her curled next to Ronan on his hospital bed, lecturing him under her breath about driving safety. “She’s right about that, you know. You should really just put it on.”

“The BMW doesn’t have any.”

“Bull _shit_ , Ronan.” Adam slipped out of his bag and turned a chair around, sitting with his arms crossed over the back. “We’ve all been in that car. You weren’t even driving it.” 

“Way to make an entrance,” Ronan remarked. “What was I driving?”

A startled half-laugh snorted from Gansey’s nose, and Ronan closed his eyes. He’d hoped to escape this at least for one class today, but once Gansey started to laugh, it was a ball rolling down a steep, smooth hill. Looking over, Adam was not much better; as soon as Gansey had started, Adam’s ears had turned pink and he was leaning over, digging around aimlessly in his messenger bag.

“Why the fuck do you both keep doing this?”

“It’s-” Gansey was wheezing. “You don’t-”

“Don’t you remember?” At this point, the flush had spread from Adam’s ears into his cheeks, and he was biting his lip. _Christ_. 

Ronan managed to lift his eyes from Adam’s mouth and snapped, “No, I don’t remember. What was I driving?”

This only threw Gansey into further hysterics, and Adam looked like he might actually be about to say something, but then Gansey slapped a hand on his elbow and managed, “Don’t tell him. Oh, God-” He pressed his hands over his eyes and stretched back in his chair, letting the last breaths of his laugh show in his stomach. Adam rolled his eyes and turned to Ronan, starting to return to his usual coloring. 

“You were in a Mitsu. One of the millions in Kavinsky’s old lot. What, were you drunk or something?”

“Fuck no,” Ronan said. “Just hit my head really hard. Lost a few pegs.”

Adam nodded slowly. “Okay.”

-

Ronan turned this over in his head later in the backseat of the Pig. When Gansey drove, Adam always sat shotgun. This was agreeable enough for Ronan - the backseat let him stretch his legs all the way across the car, and he could look freely at the back of Adam’s head unless he caught him in the side mirror. Today, he was looking at the line of Adam’s jaw and trying to think of the extent of the gap in his memory. He could remember at least a fuzzy outline of the crash itself, but not what caused it, or where it had happened, and he couldn’t remember the hospital or the hours after it, during which (according to Henry) he had made himself four milkshakes and watched an entire season of _How I Met Your Mother_. 

He twisted in the seat and kicked his ankles up onto the edge of the open window. There had to be something incriminating in that gap, or else Gansey would tell him, or Adam would. Had he fought someone? Had he accidentally flashed the invalid ward? More surprising things had happened.

There was a jerk, and the Camaro stuttered to a spitting halt in the Nino’s parking lot. Blue was working late tonight, and Gansey dragged them to have an excuse to see her whenever she took double shifts, but Adam didn’t mind, so Ronan, begrudgingly, didn’t mind, either. She was standing at the counter when they walked in, leaning on her elbow so hard Ronan half expected her arm to bend in half, but allowed herself to be pushed forward to seat them. 

Nino’s was comfortably busy and uncomfortably bright. A headache was making its way up the back of Ronan’s neck, and he leaned back, bracing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes against the yellow light. He stretched his legs out and propped them up on the opposite bench and felt Blue perch on the edge of the booth, pretending to take their orders.

“Jane,” Gansey started, and then laughed. Ronan couldn’t see him, but he could hear his breath trip over itself, a combination of being around Blue and thinking about whatever it is Ronan had managed to forget. “Do you remember what happened in the hospital?” She must have nodded, because Gansey continued, “Guess who doesn’t?”

Ronan cracked open one eye and looked sideways at Blue, who was staring at him in disbelief. 

“You really don’t remember?”

“Fucking Christ- _no_ , I don’t remember. It’s been Comedy Central for a week. Haven’t you noticed?”

Blue’s laugh was loud enough and light enough to float up over the usual Nino’s crush of conversation. She clutched her sides, and Ronan glared at her, lifting a hand to flick her earlobe, hard. 

“Hey, ow- ow! Sorry-” Another fit of laughter cut through her sentence and spilled over the table. Gansey looked equal parts bemused and smug. “Gansey, this is mean. Really. Just show him the damn video.”

“You took a video?” There was no gradual flush to Adam this time; his face was the same color as the bottle of ketchup sitting at the foot of the table. Gansey nodded, starting to pull his phone out of his pocket, and Adam kneed him hard in the thigh. “Don’t. Gansey-”

“Show me the fucking video, Dick,” Ronan said pleasantly, and Gansey closed his mouth. 

“Right. Yes. The video.” He slid his phone across the table to Ronan, who curled his lip at it for just a second before pressing the play button.

-

“-pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?” Ronan has his arms crossed behind his head, but his left wrist is trailing wires and tubes. He tilts up his chin, looking across the room at one Adam Parrish, who is blushing furiously and attempting to hide behind Henry Cheng. Blue Sargent is giggling uncontrollably in the corner.

Ronan looks uncertainly toward the camera. “What state are we in?”

“Virginia,” says a voice that distinctly belongs to Dick Gansey, III. “Why?”

“Fuck,” Ronan comments, and returns his attention to Adam, who, at this point, is cowering next to the couch. “I was going to ask if you were from Tennessee,” he continues, “because you’re the only ten I see.”

A thunderclap laugh comes from the throat of Henry, and Blue has to hold herself up on the wall. The camera shakes. Ronan’s mouth curves into an unabashed smile, and his tongue swipes across his bottom lip, shamelessly looking Adam up and down. 

“You know, I can’t really think straight right now” - this earns another wheeze from Blue - “but even though I don’t think I’m a photographer, I can still really… picture us together.” Adam turns to the wall and then back to Ronan, pulling a hand through his hair. 

“My name is Adam Parr-”

“Adam,” Ronan’s eyes flash. “A... _damn_.”

Someone (Gansey) squeaks loudly, and the camera slips down to his knees before re-focusing on Adam, who is pacing helplessly in the center of the room. “Is this happening? Is he-?” Henry hoots, and Ronan tilts his head to the side, looking at Adam through his eyelashes. 

“You look smart there, tall boy. Are you an archaeologist?”

“No, I’m sevente-”

“Because I have a large bone that needs to be examined.”

The entire room explodes in laughter, and Adam’s face is incredibly red. Ronan looks pleased with himself, readjusts his blanket, and waits for them to calm down. 

“Lynch, I think you’re going a bit overboard,” Henry chokes out finally. Ronan’s eyebrows pull together.

“Really?”

“Just a bit,” Blue manages from her corner. “Just a-” she collapses again, triggering a similar response from Henry. Ronan looks confused now.

“But I thought he was my boyfriend? Isn’t he?” Adam has his face buried in his hands and is looking at the camera through his fingers. Ronan is getting more flustered by the minute. “Aren’t you my boyfriend?”

-

“Fuck,” Ronan said plainly, and left.

-

He had only been in the parking lot for a second before the door closed behind Adam. 

“Ronan!”

He kept walking.

“Ronan-” Adam slowed to a walk next to him, making sure to keep a good few inches between their arms. “It’s not- I know you didn’t-” 

“Didn’t what?” He walked faster, but Adam kept pace easily.

“It’s fine. I mean, you had a concussion, and you didn’t remember us exactly, and I know you didn’t _mean_ it, I…” 

Ronan paused and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Pretty sure I meant it, Parrish.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“I said, I’m pretty sure I meant it, _Adam_. This isn’t exactly the way I’d want it to come out, but fuck it, I guess.” He shifted his weight to his heels and blew out a breath, watching it turn to smoke in the cold air. His pulse felt heavy in his throat.

“I don’t understand.”

Ronan heaved a sigh and turned to face him. “Are you my appendix?”

“What?”

“Are. You. My. Appendix?”

“Ronan-”

“Because you give me this weird feeling that makes me want to take you out.”

“Oh, God.” Adam was turning red again, and Ronan might have been, too, but he pushed on.

“Guess what my shirt is made of.”

“Don’t-”

“ _Boyfriend material_.”

“Stop.”

“Is your shoe tied?”

“My shoes don’t have laces.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you falling for anyone else.”

“You’re terrible. This is terrible.”

“Hey-” Ronan pulled Adam in by his waist and put his mouth next to Adam’s ear. “Are you a magician?”

“It’s been said.” His voice was low, and Ronan had to bite his lip to keep from shivering. 

“Makes sense. Because every time I look at you, everything else disappears.”

When Adam kissed him, everything else may as well have.

**Author's Note:**

> DAY 10!!! forgive the lack of a post yesterday. i couldn't write a lot for personal reasons and it's up now!! hooray!  
> comments and kudos make my day!! you can find me on tumblr at [c-beswater](http://c-beswater.tumblr.com/)


End file.
